


Thirty-Two

by a_borderlands_tale (weaving_a_tale), Pseudonaut



Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: AI!Fiona, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Other, Spoilers, Tragic Romance, older!rhys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 19:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11341668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaving_a_tale/pseuds/a_borderlands_tale, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudonaut/pseuds/Pseudonaut
Summary: Long after the Vault, Rhys became a bitter bachelor waiting for his friend to come back. After five years of searching he had an artificial intelligence made to replicate her in every way. She never did come back. Never fell down to Kratos like an angel with it's wings cut off. So now, thirty-two years since her disappearance, the CEO of Atlas was left in his office with her replica that he could never love as much as she loved him.





	Thirty-Two

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [After the Vault](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067142) by [a_borderlands_tale (weaving_a_tale)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaving_a_tale/pseuds/a_borderlands_tale). 



> [[[PLEASE READ]]]  
> This is, I guess, an official pseudo-sequel to the ever popular After the Vault. It came from an idea I had and discussed with the original author, weaver-of-tales. I offered this to be a one-shot, they saw potential in a whole series which we are now here writing together. I would recommend you read After the Vault and the whole Pandoran Saga before this to get an idea of the story. 
> 
> For those who have this is set in the world of After the Vault. But Fiona never came to this universe. This has a drastic effect on the characters, of course, as her arrival changed a lot. I'm writing the bulk whereas weaver-of-tales is writing scenes involving Angel and Tim as well as the digi-world where Fiona's AI and Jack's still preside.

"Do you ever regret making me?"

7:30pm and the gin already clouded the older man's mind as he sat in his desk chair.

"I didn't make you." His sunken, hoarse voice replied in turn before taking a sip from his glass. The straight alcohol made him bite and flick his tongue in his mouth. Any attempt to not look at her -- as bright as the sun still setting. 

"I know, you didn't  _really_ , but." She searched for words, "You're the reason I'm standing here. Still being upgraded."

He didn't reply at first. Slowly turning his glass around, liquid moving against the clang of ice cubes like a Skag struggling against quicksand. If she could swallow in anticipation she would. Her fingers balled nervously into her palms, yet she could not feel them.

"You aren't standing, though?" He quizzed while rubbing his closed eyes with a real hand, feeling his cybernetics drag along his fingertips.

Her brow lowered and she pursed her permanently ruby lips at his avoidance of her question, arms now folded.

The man noted her annoyance, even all these years later it was just like her's. A fantasy he had to avoid every _single_ time he stepped into his place of work for the past twenty-seven years. Having to calm down something so constructed and fake. It broke a piece of his heart with each day. Not that there was one left in the chasm of his chest.

"You watch some guy in space, you know, floating around and shit, but still, well; still. Is he standing? Out on a spacewalk?"

Silently, she  _stood_ , glaring a bit at him, tightening the wrap her arms were now in, causing a slight screach where her red jacket should have creased.

"You-" He started as he stood back up with a grunt. Wearing a bit thin, as much as the director refused to admit it. "Are amazing in that you're projected." His drink came with him as he stepped towards the woman -- the product in front of his desk. The man's figure silhouetted by the sunset shining past towers of production in Kratos and even beyond through the large window behind him at illuminated the office. It made the grey, grown out hair on his head almost glow. "Yet you don't need anything beaming you forward. You just step into life. With my say-so, of course."

"Amazing, huh?" She chuckled, a hint of synthesis behind her laugh, "Oh, you still have your ways with ladies, don't you. Rhys?"

He raised his thin, charcoal eyebrows up quickly in a teasing manor. Smirking, inches from her frame as he took a longer gulp of his gin. Sighing, he examined the glass before looking up at the large digital clock above his office entrance. 7:34pm and he was buzzing. It was a special day after all. Speaking wonders that he'd spent it alone. At least, in his eyes.

Rhys' eyes then averted to the long meeting table behind her. And the brown box on it, adorned with a little red bow holding down a white piece of card.

"What's that?" He asked, squinting a bit.

"A gift."

"From?"

"The only person in on Pandora that knows you secretly enjoy Eden-7 cigars."

"Tim?" He replied sarcastically with a hum in his words.

She chortled, but with each raise of spirits so to did her synthetic voice. "He'd throw a fit if he knew you took up smoking..."

"...Can you?-"

The woman moved over to pick up the box in her hardlight hands, any weight feeling so alien in her grip. And he grinned like a proud father -- as much as that thought unnerved both of them.

"You still look like such an asshole when you-"

"Smile?" Rhys laughed, finishing her sentence before he took down the remaining gin in his glass and placed it carelessly behind him on his desk.

Nodding and smiling back, she reached out to hand him the cigar box, which he took sheepishly. Running a hand over the wood etched in logos before the ribbon tickled his hand. He took the message beneath it, holding it in front of him. Luckily, age hadn't effected his sight at all as he was clearly able to make out the black ink and familiar hand writing. Maybe it was because his body only had one eye to worry about.

 

> _Rhys, my love; always, and always forever. ~Fiona_

 

Swallowing hard, he placed the card in his jacket pocket, adjusting his composure, relaxing slightly. "Thank you..."

Biting the air between her teeth, she looked at him with eyes that shone like emeralds in a black-light. The only part of her that didn't seem so opaque to him. "Just...say it." She said softly in an almost disgusted tone.

"Thank you, Fiona." He smiled out of some genuine emotion still locked away in him this time. His real hand, thumb and forefinger holding her chin lightly, just to feel the hardlight he perfected. 

The younger woman, breaking the space between them, on her toes to slowly grace her mouth against his. Not standing -- projected. It was like pressing his lips against a television screen, feeling the static buzz lovingly against his damp lips. But it was still so warm. Their eyes both closed, and while her hands, fake but caring held onto his lapels so hard that she _made_ him feel it. Rhys was still recluse, accepting her affection non the less. All Fiona wanted was to taste gin on her tongue.

He felt her close the centimeters that separated them more, still able to see the light emitting from her behind his eyelids. The older man whined a bit in his closed mouth, causing the artificial con artist to do the same between their kiss. But the robotic noise she produced instead further pushed him back into the reality he crafted for a reason. 

When they broke he stepped back, clearing his throat slightly before opening the box in a slightly trembling hand. Just wanted to avoid her judging look, always. She was too real. And Fiona watched him stumbled out of another sticky situation, loving every second of it. Still _her_ bumbling idiot even now. Always, and always forever.

He took out a long Churchill cigar and using an included cutter to chop evenly at both ends before placing it between his teeth. Reaching into his jacket pocket again, this time taking out an Atlas engraved lighter -- flicking open it's casing with a click that filled the room and striking down on it to ignite his gift from her. Not even ready to ask how she acquired something so expensive. Thinking of his old friend's schemes made him want to cry and scream at the same time.

The thick smoke curled around his tongue and almost filling his cheeks before exhaling towards the ceiling. He leaned back on his desk, going back to not looking at his love. "I don't smoke." Rhys stated with a croak from stray smoke, "It's for the flavor. That would go well with a second glass." The fifty-nine year old's robotic hand moved to drag his glass back to the open bottle of gin by the coaster facing his chair.

Oh, how she wished she could just smell it.

"Happy birthday, Rhys." Fiona smiled, moving to sit down the chair opposite his, psychically feeling nothing as she did. Emotionally, the artificial intelligence was beginning to feel like it was her birthday as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr(s):
> 
> \- a-borderlands-tale.tumblr.com  
> \- ao3-pseudonaut.tumblr.com


End file.
